To Live By
by Bru21
Summary: "Protect your brother and mother while I am away." Words to live by and to die for. "You're not your father-" "And neither are you!"


__First post in this fandom...*nervous*

So Fili is my favorite character (I can even say as much from when I read the book back in middle school, though then I had shallowly fallen for the dwarves described as the youngest and I liked the letter "F" more than the letter "Kili" :p)~! I haven't read the book in ages, so let's just assume this story is more canon to the movies...

I absolutely love the idea of Thorin like a father to Fili and Kili, and the heartwarming stories of him raising them are my favorites~

But, as much as I love how the two admire and follow Thorin without fail, I did come across a fic once that addressed (Sorry I can't name it immediately at the top of my head!) how that relationship came about, and as I'm a fan of angst, I took that liberty route of giving Fili this kind of angsty journey to trusting and following his uncle (and king) as unquestionably as he did in the movie...

So, there's a lot wrong with it, but it was fun to write, and in honor of the movie coming out on home release, I thought I'd post this...

The lyric breaks are from three songs that inspired this piece, all by Mumford & Sons-the titles are legitimately in each of the lyrics, if you really can't guess which three songs I used :p

Disclaimer: I own nothing~! Neither story, characters, or songs! Credit to where it belongs!

* * *

_Don't cover yourself with thistles and weeds_

* * *

"Protect your brother and mother while I am away," his father whispers in his ear, before slipping his hand from the boy's cheek and leaning back, his smile still regrettably weak at their parting.

Inside, his mother clutches a crying babe, whispering hushes at him softly and trying to quiet him. The boy hears his brother's wails die slightly, until they disappear completely and leave only silence and the soft humming of his mother's lullaby.

His father rises from kneeling, reaching within his belt and procuring a small dagger that feels like a sword in his boy's hands and offers it to him.

"May it not come to this," he prays and he ruffles the golden locks of his boy's head, much like his own but far shorter and cleaner (His mother insists he bathe frequently and brushes through the boy's hair almost as constant).

"We are ready," a stranger calls, entering the room and glancing from the man to the boy. This stranger wears a scowl on his face, his eyes heavy and dark and his beard trimmed and black like midnight. The boy's father stands, nodding at the man with the dark eyes, and follows after him.

Fili clutches the dagger and watches his father nod reassuringly at his boy before turning around and never glancing back.

The last sight of his father the boy has is of his retreating back, with his double sheath that bears his signature swords.

* * *

"How old is Kili now?" Thorin asks, attempting to lighten the burden on his sister's husband, who marches heavily beside him. He startles at the question, thinks, and then chuckles.

"I can't remember!"

Thorin weakly smiles at him, but it's an empty smile. He vows to return this man to his children, his wife and Thorin's sister.

"Fili grows taller yet," Thorin remarks, then it occurs to him he may have switched their names. Or not. He hasn't been home since Fili was a babe, when his eyes still had shut out the world.

The father says nothing, and Thorin thinks perhaps he did get them correct.

Or the man did not hear him.

The road is a silent one, patrolling the borders of the mountain and the village that resides within it. But, wargs were spotted and they are not to be taken lightly. Cunning creatures, they smell flesh and blood and younglings. They have ways into the mountain much like the dwarves.

The silence, the tension, is unnerving-more so than the rage and shouts of war.

"What did you tell the little one? Before we left?"

At this, the husband stirs and smiles, almost bitterly, and raises his head to answer-

-Just as a warg surfaces from the forest.

* * *

Fili does not sleep that night, cradling the dagger under his arms as he hugs himself for warmth, waiting for his father or whatever else will come. His mother sleeps in her chair, lulling herself along with the babe in her arms, unaware that her eldest stands guard by their door.

The night is quiet and the air is still, and yet the boy still waits. His eyes droop for a second, but he pinches himself awake.

Once, the blade slips and it is sharp and it cuts him just at his elbow but he doesn't feel the sting or acknowledge it. He sits and waits for someone or something to come through that door. He strains his ears and eyes but he sees nothing beyond the door and hears nothing still. The candles have been blown out and the house is cold and quiet. In his head, Fili hears his mother singing, but when this threatens to put him to sleep as well, he shakes her furiously from his mind and instead hears his father repeat the words over and over.

"Protect your brother and mother while I am away."

This is the burden his father has left him for the night, and he will hold onto it as he does the knife entrusted to him by his father.

He will keep watch, until his father returns home.

Or something else does.

* * *

"Watch the right flank!" Thorin commands, whipping around to confront his next victim. A claw outstretches towards his head and his reflexes catch him, barely as the warg grazes Thorin's temple. Thorin can feel his skin sting as it splits, but heaves his sword down upon the creature, and with a defining snap, silences it.

Thorin looks to find his brother-in-law, standing mere feet away and admiring his most recent kill briefly.

"Wargs are nothing, compared to the challenges of parenthood!" He quips, winking at Thorin, who tries to smile despite himself.

From a distance, he hears the battle cry of Dwalin and turns to face the onslaught, a moment too soon.

"Thorin-!"

Thorin ducks reflexively, thinking it to be a warning, but his eyes flash towards the source of his name, only to find his sister's husband, bound in the jaws of a warg.

"No!"

In a last-ditch effort, the warg bounds off as the dwarve in tow takes the final swings of desperation of his swords, directly at the face and neck of the beast. The warg stumbles through brush, tripping over itself and the natural foothills and elevation of the earth, all to the tune of battle cries and a sickening crunch and Thorin isn't sure if it the crunch of the spine of the creature or the man.

Both fall limp and both have wide, fearful eyes filled with a lingering anger and spirit that death could not conquer.

Without thinking of his own safety or position, Thorin sprints after the fallen pair.

* * *

Thorin had first met Dis's betrothed after returning from a month-long venture to the market several towns over. He'd not done nearly as well as he'd have hoped, and as result was in a sour mood.

He'd entered his home, expecting to find Dis and quickly have her comfort him with tea or ale of some sort, then be bombarded with reports on the people's fairing.

Inside, he was answered in the door by a dwarve he did not recognize.

Golden hair, like a mane, braided and looped and tugged and pulled into patterns that suggested wealth framed the face of the stranger. His beard was still young, still not full or plaited to match his hair. His clothes were red and rich and the color nearly hurt Thorin's eyes, for he was so used to the mourning black of Dis and himself under the roof of his home.

The Dwarve had dark eyes, nearly black which seemed to soak in all the desolate colors that his clothing and hair did not possess. He was an anomaly amongst the dwarves, with his fair hair and contemplative eyes. He smiled warmly at Thorin, welcoming him into his own home, and his cheeks dimpled in the genuine smile.

Thorin hated the dwarve to his very core in that instant.

But then Dis entered the room and to Thorin's astonishment, she wore green. An actual color; and an actual smile. And she wore it for this stranger, not Thorin.

And he found he could not hate this man, whomever he was, who brought color and spirit back into the life of his sister, so soon after so much loss.

* * *

The same fair, golden mane fanned from the scalp of the dwarve, cringing in the dirt and earth as Thorin reached him. His hair mixed and mingled with a pool of blood that stemmed from the neck of the man, a slit that bubbled with every breath he grasped at. His teeth and tongue were stained black with blood and he gawked to speak, but choked and found he could not.

"..'ili-!" He gurgled, and Thorin felt his heart despair. Tears flooded those dark eyes, squinting in struggle to continue on. He tried to lift his hand, whichever one, which still weakly gripped a sword each towards Thorin, but found he had no strength to do so.

The corner of his lip upturned and that familiar smile weaved its way through the blood and pain. With a shudder, the spirit and life of the brilliant, bright dwarve passed, and all that was left was the broken shell of the blonde warrior, with his glazed eyes still looking beyond Thorin, as though greeting his wife and children who awaited his return that morning.

Tearfully, Thorin dragged his numb fingers across the eyes of his brother in law, closing them in peace, before rising in rage to finish his revenge against the beasts.

* * *

Just as dawn peaked across the mountain, and the sole bare window shed its light, Fili heard the footsteps. He jolted awake, eyes wide as his grip tightened on the blade's handle and he prepared himself. The footsteps are boots, leather and heavy. It sounds safe, but it does not sound like father.

The door is pushed slowly open, and Fili jumps to his feet, bracing himself to attack or to fall.

It is not his father, but it is no enemy either. It is the stranger from the night before, with his dark beard and eyes and his face is scarred and there is a trickle of blood down his eye that Fili has never seen before; a wound.

The stranger hesitates when he sees the boy, looking between the boy's eyes, surrounded by dark circles that give away his position as the sleepless night guard, and the dagger within his hands, which he holds as he trembles.

The stranger's lips quiver slightly as he looks at the boy's face, and if the boy knew what familiarity looked like, he would recognize it in the stranger's face. The stranger sees his father in him, and he swallows his grief and guilt and kneels to the boy's level.

The boy subconsciously steps back, further blocking the hall which leads to his unsuspecting mother and baby brother. Friend or not to his father, this man is still a stranger and is not his father, and Fili warrants that means he will not make his way to those whom Fili is to protect.

The stranger sighs and reaches out a hand to the boy. Does he want his knife? Fili does not give it to him, eyeing the man suspiciously.

"Come here," the man grunts, his voice cracked and hoarse and he clears it. Fili lowers the knife but does not soften his grip. He steps towards the stranger and instantly the man pulls him into a hug. He grips the boy's back and buries him into his chest, his beard suffocating the unsuspecting youth.

"Your father…" he cannot finish and somehow the boy knows. His father is not returning that morning, nor any morning. Suddenly, his father's final words, his burden, become more than a promise of his return and a temporary passing of position of protector to his eldest son. It is a will of a now dead man and it is the words Fili must live by, for they are the last words of his father.

They are not, "I love you, Fili, and your mother and your brother."

They are not, "Make something of yourself, my boy."

They are to protect his brother and his mother, and in those binding final words, Fili's fate is sealed.

A figure stands behind them and suddenly Fili is released and turns to see his mother, a hand already clasped over her mouth and chin, and tears well in her eyes too.

She falls to her knees just as the stranger catches her and somewhere behind them, Kili is awake and crying.

Fili watches the stranger comfort his mother, purring words like "I'm sorry," and "sister" into her back as she clutches onto him, and Fili touches his own cheek, wondering if he is crying as well, because his face is numb and he is tired and he can't very well tell.

His cheeks are dry and his eyes clear, and in that moment he declares he will see to Kili, because their mother looks preoccupied and someone needs to.

* * *

"The boys," Thorin mumbles, but Dis does not hear him.

"Dis, the children…young Kili cannot look after and feed Fili by himself-"

Dis shakes her head, her eyes red but focusing briefly on Thorin, if only for a moment as she corrects him,

"Fili cares for Kili. Kili is the youngest."

Thorin curses inwardly; he swore he had them right.

"Dis, please," he pleads again, and this time she sniffles and nods; she hears him. He wants to help more than he can, but he doesn't know how. He doesn't know children. He is not their father and has not raised them since birth.

He can't even get their names right.

* * *

The stranger is his uncle, and if Fili never saw or noticed him before now, he suddenly sees him every day. Every day, the stranger is by Fili's mother and she seems a bit more at ease beside him. They speak in hushed tones and quietly amongst themselves and nothing they say, the words they use, make sense to Fili and it occurs to him they speak of the past.

Fili wears his father's dagger, tucked into his belt and trousers, hidden from his mother because when she sees it, it causes her a great grief and he would not like to see her so distraught if he could help it. The stranger says little to Fili, but that is because he speaks mostly to his mother.

Kili still cries, and Fili offers to care for him. He sings the songs his mother taught him, though he does not remember them all and so he hums most of it on improvisation. Kili does not notice the difference, for he giggles and falls asleep all the same. Fili rocks him and then tucks him in to sleep and suddenly he too is very tired. He curls beside his brother and closes his eyes for a moment to rest, and he awakens hours later to the gurgling sound of his brother, awake and happy to be so.

Fili's mother has not moved from her eat in the kitchen, and for a moment Fili think the stranger has left. But, he enters the room, returning from some chore of other, and he spares only a glance at Fili before returning to his sister, Fili's mother, and comforting her at her side. Fili does not eat that night, because he cannot bring himself to ask his mother to make anything. In honesty, he forgets about hunger or food, because he is too busy rocking Kili back to sleep.

His mother returns, if ever she left, to her normalcy after a few days. She sets the table and brushes at her eyes because she does not set a plate for her husband but rather for her brother and when Kili cries she tells Fili to go ahead and wash up as she checks on the babe. Fili does so without a word and he does so avoiding ever looking at the stranger.

His uncle watches the boy but says nothing, and when his mother returns, the boy quickly sits to eat and then excuses himself. He means to return to his room, but a whimper catches his ear and he instead finds himself in the nursery, looking down the crib at Kili. Kili thrusts and shakes in his sleep, and Fili mistakes him to be awake, lifting him gently and slowly and cradling him in his arms.

Kili settles down in Fili's grip and Fili lays back, sighing as he hugs his brother to his chest and tries to find comfort on the fur rug on the floor. The knife tucked against his back awkwardly pokes at him, so he draws it out and holds it with one hand, outstretching it from Kili's reach as he grips his brother still with one hand to him.

He falls asleep, his body curled around like a shield to little Kili's, with his outstretched hand serving as a warning to any that approach.

His uncle passes the room and by chance looks inside, catching a glimpse of the brothers.

At first he wants to chastise Fili for removing Kili, but then he softens and instead shakes his head. Those two will grow to be inseparable, he thinks.

* * *

Time passes and Dis digs up her dresses, the ones with embroidery and color and the days of her mourning seem to have passed. She cannot cling to the grief of the death of her loved ones, not without robbing that time from those who still dwell with her in living. Slowly, she smiles more and it's a soft smile at first, fragile but there, but then a night comes where she's laughing, a full and hearty laugh, and that's enough for Thorin.

And Kili has never stopped laughing, since the day he was born, and as he grows older, encouraged by his brother and their play and pranks, he seems only to grow in joy. He's an opinionated fellow, stubborn and heated. He's like his father in that sense. He's a handful for Dis to control.

Yet he'll listen to Fili. If Fili warns Kili, he heads it. If Fili encourages Kili, he does not question it. He follows his brother blindly, uplifted by the praise and scolding, which Fili permits him.

Fili…

Thorin watches the young heir (Because Thorin knows he is not likely to have a son, a child), who has his back to Thorin and fumbles with something in his hands, facing the fire and his brother whom is sprawled on his stomach with his nose to the ground in some scroll he's laid out but cannot understand.

Kili looks up to Fili, a plea on his face for some assistance in understanding the runes he has just scrutinized over, and Fili sets aside whatever object was in his hands to come to the aid of his brother.

Thorin darts his eyes at the object, now beside Fili and within his view, and notices it to be the dagger that had belonged to the boy's father. He's seen Fili with it around for quite some time. Fili is keen to hide it from the view of his mother, of his uncle, and ever always out of the reach of Kili. But, some night, like tonight, he slips up.

Thorin slowly rises from his chair and makes his way from the room, not hastily to draw alarm, but casually. He finds Dis in her room, just sitting at the edge of her bed with something in hand. She jumps when he appears in the door's entrance.

"Dis, I-"

She looks up at him, her eyes misty with tears and ridden with guilt. He sighs and approaches her, setting himself beside her.

And he looks at what she holds and its two, maybe three hair clasps; tiny, silver beads and her fingers tremble slightly when she reveals them to Thorin.

"They were…He always had a few, always left them about the house. He kept changing his hair…adding a braid here, taking away one there…He kept losing them, t-too, so I'd forge a few more..." she laughs, but the tremor causes a tear to slip so the back of her hand catches it quickly. "He'd always find them at some point, though. Pretty soon he had more clasps then he knew what to do with!"

Thorin tries to smile and look at Dis, reassuringly that it's alright to cry, but she doesn't look at him.

"And I found these, this morning…" Her lip trembles and the smile falls and she's outright crying now, her breath hitching and quavering.

"What do I do with them all? What do I do-"

Thorin catches her as she buries herself into his chest, crying again because she hasn't in so long. Thorin lets her sniffle and gasp for a while, and when she finally seems to calm down a bit he pulls her back so she can collect herself.

She draws forth a handkerchief (Filthy thing) and as she wipes her eyes, he remarks,

"Dis…about Fili's knife-"

"It's his father's," She remarks, though not necessarily to Thorin but more to herself. Thorin doesn't need to tell her he knows that, or that he saw the man give the boy his possession. He merely continues on,

"Is it-?"

"Oh, Mahal, Thorin! Fili is careful with it! You've seen him, I know you have. He has no more use for it now than his father does-" It's a premature joke, but she bites her tongue and finishes, "It's a part of him he can hold onto."

"Aye, and hold onto it he does. He sleeps with it, I've seen him."

She scoffs.

"And you can bet he probably bathes with it, too."

Dis smiles and casts him a mischievous side-glance.

"He does. I've caught him trying to, at least. Twice."

Thorin smirks.

Then, a thought occurs to him.

"How about you give him something else of his father's to hold onto. In place of the knife. Just until he's old enough to actually have use of it."

"Like what?" She questions.

Thorin grips Dis's hand and works her fingers free so that the beads land into his own palm.

"Something he can use."

He winks at her, "Have you seen his mop of hair of late? It's unruly. Not fit for an Heir of the line of Durin!"

* * *

"Fili!"

Fili jumps when the stranger (Uncle, he reminds himself; it's his uncle)calls his name, and instinctively he reaches for his knife, though what danger he thinks he's in, the knife will not help. Perhaps he means to hide it, but his uncle's eyes follow his hand and he knows he's been seen.

Kili pouts, because Fili was finally making sense of the scroll when there uncle interrupted. He sits up and leans back impatiently. Thorin ignores him.

"Fili, come here, lad."

Fili does as he's commanded, stepping slowly and hesitantly to meet his uncle, who kneels to Fili's height. He out stretches a hand by Fili's ear, and Fili flinches back.

"I'll not hurt you, boy. Come closer," his uncle growls, his voice deep and a little brash but Fili leans forward because he's not about to question the dwarve.

Fili braces himself, for what he doesn't know, and feels a tug at the side of his head. Followed by more tugging. It takes him a moment to realize he's closed his eyes, and a moment more to actually wise up enough to open them. His uncle is braiding a lock of hair, just at his temple, and in a moment he finishes and moves his hands to tackle the other side.

The braid feels heavy and while the stranger works on the left of his head, Fili lifts his hand to feel and admire the braid on his right. It's a tight braid, neat and perfect, and as he reaches the end of it, his fingers touch something cold and metal and heavy.

A moment later, Thorin draws back his hands and the same weight is now on Fili's left side, and he simultaneously takes both braids in hand, stroking the beads at the end with curiosity.

"They were your father's," is all the older man has to say, and instantly Fili feels a great responsibility within his fingertips.

Thorin can see the boy straighten his spine and tighten his grip, as though willing the beads to never fall off.

Kili, feeling neglected and ignored for too long, has sprinted to his brother's side, clawing at his tunic to turn the boy around so he may see.

"I want one! Can I have one?! Me too!" Kili pouts. Dis has joined them now, standing behind Thorin in the doorway. Fili looks to her, as though to ask for permission; is this alright?

She nods to Fili, before turning to Kili.

"You're young still, Kili. The day will come when you may have you own clasps."

"These are mine then?" Fili asks, still in disbelief.

Thorin nods, "Aye."

"Then I may do with them as I please?"

Cautiously, Thorin again nods. "Aye."

Without a moment's hesitation, Fili quickly slips the bead off the second braid, running quick fingers through it to loosen his hair once more. He turns Kili around, his back now facing the others, and grabs a clump of hair, yanking it back on Kili's scalp.

He can't braid, he quickly realizes, so he merely twists the hair tightly and clasps the bead around it.

"There. You may have one of mine, Kili. But, it's not yours, so do not lose it!"

Kili twists around, beaming at his brother's gift, though he cannot see it. Dis is smiling, while Thorin is rather perplexed.

Dis warns Fili he must wash up before dinner; Kili, too, though she beckons him over so she may fix his braid. Kili refuses her, though; he doesn't want her to ruin Fili's gift to him (Though Thorin suspects he's afraid she'll take the bead away).

Kili thanks his brother, and then Thorin (Fili flinches, but only Thorin notices this) before bouncing off.

Dis watches the younger chase after the older before, warning Thorin that he is no different; wash up, or no supper.

* * *

The knife does not disappear completely, but its appearances are far and few between, Thorin notes. The clasp, however, is not. Fili experiments a few days, wearing the bead differently, but ultimately returns to wearing a single braid in front of his ear, with the bead weighing it down. His hair is short, though grows quickly, and as of late seems to be kept better groomed.

Kili only wears his bead when Fili himself attaches it. With time, Fili becomes a master of braids and so even Kili's hair goes through several preliminary trials before he rebukes Fili's testing methods and demands for a simpler style. He, too, favors his original hair of drawing strands from the front to the back to be clasped. It's rather quick and effortless on Fili's part.

Thorin accepts that this is enough; the clasps are enough of something, a tangible and physical piece of their father for Fili to hold onto and satisfy he's obsession with never letting go. Thorin can see that Fili still grieves. He notices this when Fili lets his gaze linger on the chair, during supper, where the boys' father once sat.

He notices this when he does catch those rare moments of Fili admiring the dagger gifted to him by his father.

And he notices this in the subtle, small glares which Fili sometimes directs at Thorin, though he isn't aware he's even casting them.

When Fili feels brave enough, he asks his mother about their father. He casually remarks if his father ever liked the green food (He tries to make it appear as though he's just egging her on to let him off the hook of having to eat them, but Thorin sees past that; he's testing the waters, to see how far and what can he learn of his father, before it brings his mother pain at the memory and he therefore retreats). And Dis humors him-she tells him their father loved his greens and he should to. And Thorin can see the confusion on Fili's face, where he weighs if she's telling the truth or not, and whether to trust her and devour the greens because that's what his father would have liked.

But then he grows braver and he asks more questions. What age did father learn to fight? What of his first metal work, in the forge? His first battle?

Dis has been backing herself into a corner the whole time, no longer with the upper hand and manipulating the answers but rather being interrogated. Thorin sees her growing discomfort and swiftly comes to her rescue when he remarks how Fili should run off and find Kili-supper is soon.

Fili obliges, but not without casting that natural, careless glare in Thorin's direction.

And Thorin and Dis both know he means well. He only means to learn what kind of a man his father was; who he had been in life, for he cannot judge that himself now.

But, the wound still is fresh to Dis and her eyes send Thorin a silent 'thank you' as she continues to plate that night's meal.

Thorin sighs, leaning back, and sits in his thoughts until Kili comes bounding in, greeting him with enough energy to lift the mood. Fili follows more slowly, slipping into his seat without a word.

Years go by, and the questions resurface, but Fili is more careful. He treads softer; he spaces them, so as not to rush his mother all at once.

And he hides his glares better. The disdain is swallowed up in his eyes alone, so well that eventually Thorin cannot see the malice in his nephew's face; not without looking very hard for it.

He still imagines that Fili isn't even aware of it.

* * *

Fili remains weary of the stranger, his uncle. He hears others call him strange things, like 'King' and such, but its years before Fili even understands what that means. His uncle, Thorin, sometimes tells Kili and him stories, at night, when he's feeling in a light, generous mood. Most of his stories, the ones that he attests to living through and even a few he wasn't born for, take place in a place called Erebor.

Thorin goes into great detail of the mountain; he explains the foundation and plan of it. He forges such intricate detail into his stories of what Erebor was like that Fili can close his eyes and imagine it. He squints at the glare caused by the heaves of gold, and he shivers at the chill that the wide halls let draft in. And faintly, if he strains, he can hear the sound of hearty dwarves throughout the chambers, and if he truly tries hard enough, he hears the chaotic laughter and cheer of the people of Dale, beneath the mountain, as the wind carries their voices.

It's even longer before Fili connects what being the nephew of the king quite means. Fili is his heir, for Thorin has no children of his own. And if Erebor still was under the reign of dwarves, he would be in line to be king. One day, he will be king.

And Fili hates his uncle for it. This uncle, who came from nowhere, in the middle of one night-the very night he stole Fili's father away, only to replace him come morning-and came bearing with him the responsibilities and expectations that were weighed on Fili. Fili resented Thorin for that.

Most of all, though, Fili resented what being an heir meant. It meant more than simply following in the footsteps of Thorin. It meant a responsibility for a people, a home, which Fili never knew. Thorin's kingdom by birthright was a scarce, thinly spread population of dwarves desperate to find a home after being cast from their own. And here, Fili thought, he felt overwhelmed by the responsibility of his father's last words;

"Protect your brother and mother," He'd said.

His father had never warned him to lead a nation, a race.

No, that silent foreboding message had been brought to Fili by the arrival of a stranger with dark eyes and heavy scowl one fateful night.

Fili did not hate Thorin. He hated that his father was gone. He hated that his father had left Fili the task, the burden, to protect his brother and mother, and that was it. He hated that he'd never see his father again, and he hated that he was an heir, and expected to be a king one day. He hated that Kili knew the face of Thorin so much more than he did that of their father. And he hated that Fili himself sometimes found it difficult to remember what his father looked like, only to be reminded that his father was gone and in his place was his uncle, the king, of which his eyes always fell do during dinner, where his father should sit instead.

Fili hated the expectations he was to uphold. He hated what everyone asked and expected of him.

Most of all, he feared he would not live up to their expectations. He feared he would fail his father, and Kili, and his mother, or Thorin and the people he did not know. And he channeled this fear, and this hatred, misleadingly towards his uncle, because Fili was young and could not blame himself. He refused to blame his father.

So he blamed Thorin, and he hated him.

* * *

The words seemed to slip out in a speed less than reality, Fili noticed. He saw it coming, all along, but could do nothing to stop them. The smile he bore had frozen on his face, an awkward hesitation before, with horror, realization dawned on him and it faltered. He shifted his eyes between his brother and uncle, waiting for their reaction. Waiting to see who would correct themselves first.

But it never came.

The joyful aura from a moment ago was gone, to Fili at least, and his brother's words played over in his head.

"-You won't believe what Fili and I just witnessed, Father-"

Fili jolted back to the present when Thorin asked him if he was well. Fili looked between the two, noticing their mirrored expressions of concern. Kili looked confused, as though he'd just turned his back only to find Fili frightful. Thorin looked amused.

Kili had not recognized his mistake, and Thorin had not corrected him.

That was all Fili could think, and without a word he stood and silently excused himself.

He expected Kili to follow him out, to chase after him and bombard him with questions until Fili was forced to explain himself.

Kili never did.

Fili heard the hollow, deep laughter of his uncle, mingling with the cheerful yelps of Kili as he retold their adventure in the market that afternoon. Fili never stopped, never hesitated to listen, and never had felt so sick in his life before. Not since the death of his father.

* * *

_I'll never wear your broken crown_

* * *

"Fili, why are we out here? Fili, it's cold out here…"

Fili sighed, fighting the nagging voice in the back of his mind that urged him to turn around and forget this folly. However, he ignored the voice of reason and silently tugged his brother's coat further around him, tightening the scarf around his neck ever so slightly to trap the warmth.

"There, better? Enough complaining-it's a game! An adventure! You want to go on one of those, don't you?"

Complaint forgotten, the younger dwarve lit up with excitement at the prospect of an adventure.

Fili smiled, satisfied at his brother's simple thoughts, and continued to lead them further from the village, the mountain, into the forest. The very woods his uncle had forbid them from approaching; it wasn't safe, least of all this late in the afternoon. The winter light made the sky glow with a stale light blue while the snow caught the sun and seemed to be orange, as if on fire. Fili stopped a few paces from the trees, in a clearing, before unsheathing the surprise he'd kept from Kili.

"Fili-! Whose are those?!"

Fili bit back his disappointment at his brother's lack of recognition, but didn't blame him. The objects in his hands had been kept so tucked away, buried in the grief and misery of their mother, that it'd taken him years to find.

"These are our father's swords," Fili proudly answered.

The blades were polished but dull. They hadn't been cared for in some time, left to rot beneath the few namesakes their mother couldn't quite let go of their father's. Fili had barely started his own training of the blade but a few moons ago; he hardly had the strength to hold both blades, and it showed in how his hands trembled. Still, he fought to keep them lifted and swelled with pride at his brother's awestruck.

"Did Uncle give them to you?"

Again, bringing up their Uncle! Why spoil the moment? Fili thought.

"No; no one gave these to me. They were our _father's_, and by rights they now belong to me. They passed down to-"

"Does Uncle know you have them?"

Who cared what Uncle knew or thought or did?! Fili grew further frustrated.

"Do you want to learn to fight, little brother?"

Kili gasped with muffled joy-he wasn't allowed yet to begin training, though he begged their uncle relentlessly.

Fili offered his left sword, smirking as Kili fell silently beside him, mocking his pose and no longer bringing up talk of their Uncle.

* * *

"They're growing braver," Balin warns disdainfully, peering over the walls beside Thorin. They both can hear the howls, as if on cue; distant but far too close for comfort. The sun is setting-the forest itself is already dark, and it casts a shadow on what little expanse there is between the mountain and the trees.

The snow looks blue without the light, but the tops of the trees seem on fire by the sun's glow and the sky is red.

Tonight will not be a good night.

"Thorin!"

Thorin whips around to see Dis, who looks out of breadth and horrified. Balin bows in acknowledgement of her but she does not heed it.

"Thorin! The boys-"

"Where are they?"

"I do not know! I can't find them anywhere!"

Thorin curses under his breath.

"I'll help you search for them, Lady Dis," Balin offers. "Have you checked the village?"

Dis nods.

"All of it?"

"They are nowhere within the walls!" Dis exasperates.

"Then, they must be beyond it," Balin adds, somberly.

Thorin grips the hilt of his sword and storms past them both.

* * *

"What is the meaning of this?!"

The anger and tone were unmistakable-their Uncle had finally found them, was the bitter though Fili acknowledged. Kili jumped in alarm, instantly frightened at the prospect of being scolded by his idol, his Uncle. Fili was not so concerned with that at the moment; he only regretted that Kili and his' play had been interrupted.

"What are you both doing? These lands are plagued with wolves, wild and-"

Thorin's breadth hitched as his eyes caught the sight of the swords.

"What…are those?"

Kili looked ashamed to have held the weapon, shying away as he contemplated inching from his brother's side, who held both swords, and acting as though he'd never touched the blades. Fili, however, gripped the hilts tighter and boldly replied,

"They are the swords of my father."

Thorin was jolted by this. By the venom in which the boy spoke the words 'my father', as though Thorin had no connection to the fallen warrior. As though he hadn't been there to watch the warrior pass from this world to the next.

"Those are not toys, to be brought out on the whim of a foolish child-"

"They are not rubbish, to be discarded and forgotten either!"

"-Those swords are in your father's memory-"

"-You cannot pack the memory of our father with his swords and hide them to never be seen or remembered again-"

"Enough, Kili-!" Regret trailed his words the moment he screamed them. "F-Fili, I meant Fili…"

But the damage had been done and the pregnant silence hung far too long and awkwardly and no one could think to fill it.

"You…you cannot run off like such, without considering the safety of both yourself and your brother. What madness possessed you to think running this far from home, into the wilderness where wargs run-Do you know the danger you have put yourself into? The danger you put your brother-Kili-into? Sprinting off into the woods, and with your father's swords! You are not your father-"

"And neither are you!"

Tears had boiled into the eyes of the fair-haired dwarf, and he gripped each sword in hand, trembling at the weight, with such ferocity that for a moment, Thorin forgot that the boy wasn't his father.

Such a spitting image he was, each sword in hand.

It was like watching the boy's father, ferociously staring down the warg the day he died.

And even now, as he turned his back to Thorin and sprinted away, his figure fading into the trees. The swords still gripped in his hands, his fleeting figure raging forward without waiting on Thorin.

Then Kili whimpered and Thorin was drawn back to reality, and it dawned on him painfully.

That had not been the image of the boys' father running into the woods.

It had been Fili himself.

* * *

Their father had blonde locks. Golden and light, a rarity even amongst the diverse dwarves. His spirit was similar-so fresh and so different, compared to the stuffy and secluded dwarves. If ever there was a dwarf born under the open sky that just may have adjusted and loved the fields and forests and seas as much as the mountains, it was their father.

In his youth, his nose had been slim; like a button at the end, and with age it had upturned slightly and gave him an air of pride. His eyes were dark, perhaps taking in all the heavy color that his hair missed, and they always seemed half closed, as if in contemplation: smoldering, if you will. His beard he'd cropped, yet from his stache two braids looped to intertwine within his beard. His hair had some lift and bunches, braids and clips and clasps and looked so unruly in the back that it was a wonder he looked presentable in the front (Not that many cared).

He dressed in colors, from rich reds to emerald greens and he wore few furs because he never seemed affected by the cold so much as the others and perhaps it was his bright spirit that warmed him.

While his appearance was a contradictory, Thorin himself could not judge the man harshly because he brought that same warmth and joy to Dis, his beloved sister, and seeing her in a color other than black for a change was a welcomed one.

When Fili was born, already he looked so similar to his father. His nose seemed to favor the Durin line more, which brought a silent relief to Thorin for even he saw the fair hair that whisked from the boy's head and knew he'd be a golden boy like his father. Perhaps he'd have that same spirit and warmth as him, too.

When the boy's eyes did open, they too were of the Durin blood; a blue and a piercing shade at that, but with time their shape would resemble more of their father's. He looked to be a sculpture copy of his father, with the inlaid blue stones for eyes hidden under his brow and jawline.

Kili had his father's eyes and nose and, sadly to admit, his spirit. He had a sense of adventure that was so headstrong and ignored so much of the little details that he blew over many of them.

Fili, disappointedly, seemed not to live up to the spirit of their father. He was calculating and more concerned with the details rather than the big picture, an annoying trait of the Durin line which Thorin felt almost responsible for, though with no justification as to why. Fili smiled far less than his brother, or his father, but he was not an unhappy child. He was simply a watcher, rather than the brash leader his kin had been.

Their father coaxed more smiles from Fili than Thorin had ever seen Dis accomplish. Not to say the boy loved her any less than his father, but her constant bearing of chores and complaints and commands and reprimanding's left such an opening for the father to swoop in and be the hero that it was natural the boy took it.

* * *

When their father died, so did the hero. Thorin was not the one to swoop in and save the boys from punishable chores by Dis-he would stand beside her and loom in agreement, making no word against her for he agreed with her. Fili's smiles only came out with Kili; only came out in the part of Kili left from their father.

Those piercing blue eyes were like mirrors to Thorin whenever he caught them looking at him, glaring at him as though judging him even as a child so young who did not understand what it was he looked for in his uncle, his king. The boy had a single portrait of his father, and he tried desperately to replicate those braids and those claps as he had done. His memory and this profile sketch that had done the fallen warrior no justice were all that Fili had left to follow, to look to as an example. He tried so hard to clasp the back of his hair much like he'd remembered. He saw the image of the back of his father's head so clearly, knew the retreating figure with two swords holstered on his back, yet his hands were too unskilled and he could not see with no mirror his craftsmanship.

Thorin offered only once, in the highest of his spirits, to assist Fili in adorning his hair-just the back, he assured. Fili looked brimming with tears and refused in such an outcry, Thorin had not known how to respond. So, he hadn't.

Years would go by, decades even, and Thorin would watch the boy tug and pull at his stache, urging it that extra inch so his braid may reach his beard, short as it was. He still wore braids, and tried so hard to be the spitting image of his father. It hurt their mother, Thorin knew-to see her lover's face present on her son, a painful reminder he was gone. But, it also comforted her. To know the man of their house lived on, to know his spirit would never die.

Except, within Fili, it had. The spirit was gone. Fili was as much like his father as that portrait-just an image. He was hollow behind those Durin eyes, as they should be. He did not have the spirit of their father, like Kili. He only had the appearance of him.

And the swords on his back.

* * *

Fili ran aimlessly forward. Tears blurred his vision, so that the trees melded into one shadow while the snow seemed to swallow the sky. It was late; it was dark and he was lost. The swords were heavy in his hands, but Fili's fingers had long since numbed, frozen gripping the hilts.

Fili tripped up a snow mound, fumbling to find his balance before his boot caught in the snow and he tumbled forward. He rolled down the small slope, the swords finally jumping from his grip.

Fili didn't bother standing. He laid perfectly still, with his head bowed into the snow and the swords discarded and forgotten several feet away.

And he cried.

He cried because he wanted his father. Because if his father was here, he wouldn't have needed to have stolen the swords in the first place. He wouldn't have been scolded by his uncle, who as much as Fili hated to admit it, was right.

He was a child, trying to wield the weapons of a warrior. And bringing Kili out here with him was dangerous; he had put Kili in danger.

He had gone against his father's final words, to protect Kili.

And if his father had been here, none of this…

If his father hadn't…

Fili doesn't hear the growl until it's almost above him, to which he whipped his head up to.

There, posed to pounce, is a wolf, twice the size of Fili. It's mangy and grey and barring its fangs and the look in its eyes are hollow and unforgiving. It's sizing Fili up, recognizing him to be prey; weak and defenseless.

Fili knows he doesn't stand a chance. His hand-to-hand combat isn't enough to survive by, not in a true scrape. His eyes dart to the swords.

He's got about as much chance reaching one of the blades in time that the wolf has in reaching him.

Perhaps the wolf knows this as well, for in that moment it leaps to attack.

Fili scrambles but the wolf is already upon him, and it's snapping at his face.

Fili fends it off with his arm, and feels the teeth bite through his sleeve. It breaks skin and Fili lets out a mixture of a scream and a curse, kicking frantically underneath the wolf to push it off him.

He gets a lucky break, landing a blow at the under belly of the wolf and freeing himself momentarily. Again, he's clawing at the ground, trying to swim through the snow to get to the swords, but again the wolf has recovered and is on him.

He puts up more of a fight, dodging the creature's snout and bite before he remembers something that very well could save his life.

The dagger-

His father's dagger is in his belt and he doesn't even hesitate as he reaches for it. He feels the hilt and grips his hand around it, thrusting the dagger up just as the wolf bites down.

* * *

Thorin isn't sure which way Fili ran, and he can still hear Kili crying in the distance behind him. He wants to yell at the boy to head back behind the wall, find Balin and his mother, but he's too focused on searching the horizon. Where is Fili?

The trees are dense and the forest is silent; there are no birds, no songs.

"Fili!" He tries yelling, doubting that the boy will respond.

It's no surprise when he hears no reply.

Thorin tries to find some foot prints, something to follow, but the blanket of snow is clean and unbroken save for where he has tread. He unleashes a string of curses that would have his own father rolling in his grave. He prays Kili had enough sense to get behind the wall. The last light of the sun is dying-

A cry breaks Thorin's thoughts and he recognizes it to be Fili's. Its feint, but it's enough of a trail for Thorin to follow, and he sprints towards the sound.

A brief moment later, another cry follows and Thorin finds himself sprinting harder, faster. He has to reach his nephew; he's in danger.

In the clearing, still petrified on his knees, Kili cries and watches the trees, waiting for Thorin to emerge with his brother in tow. But, nothing stirs, and his lip quivers at the silence that greets him. Distantly, he can hear Thorin calling for Fili.

Then, much like Thorin, he hears the distinct yelp of pain that can be none other than Fili, and Kili's hands jump to clasp his mouth. Fili is in trouble.

Shaking, Kili stumbles to his knees and tramples off into the trees in the direction his uncle had run. He has to reach Fili. Fili needs him.

* * *

Thorin peaked the mound of snow, and his eyes first fell upon the wolf. It's carcass lay forgotten on its side, with splotchy, grey fur rustling in the wind. A hilt, one Thorin recognized all too well from years of watching it carefully be handled by hands too young, sprung from its neck. The opening, the wound, was marked by fur, sticky and red, which stained the snow beneath the beast.

Thorin then seemed to travel in time, back to that fateful day, and there before him laid the sprawled image of a fallen, fair-haired dwarf, soaking in a pool of scarlet.

Thorin was at the fallen warrior's side in an instant, gripping his hand. Dead eyes, dark and empty, stared back at him and a trickle of blood spilt from lips that still held the ghost word, forever lost to Thorin, upon them.

But then Thorin blinked and those dark eyes, dead and lost, became blue and frantic. The boy's chest heaved and he stared wildly at his uncle, his eyes filled with fear, with questioning; Was he going to die?

Thorin gripped the boy's hand, giving a reassuring squeeze as he overlooked the lad.

He arm was bleeding; bite marks dug nearly to the bone and trickles of blood streamed down his arm. There was another bite, a gash, at the base of his neck, just at the collar bone and above the heart. This wound greatly worried Thorin, though it appeared less deep than the bite on his arm. Still, it drew blood and the parallels of the image (So close! It was so close to the boy's neck) to that of his father were unnerving to say the least.

Thorin tried to lift, to cradle Fili, to him, but Fili grunted and with what little strength he had, resisted. Then, his body shook and his eyes rolled back. He was falling into shock.

"Fili! Fili, stay with me, boy-!"

"F-Fili..?"

Thorin whipped around, glaring at Kili who was trembling, looking between the creature and his brother.

"Is he dead?! F-F-Fili, is he d-dead?!"

"Find Balin, Kili!"

"F-Fili…" Kili reached for his brother, tears freely falling from his eyes.

"Kili! Find Balin, now!"

The dwarfling hesitated before stumbling back the way which he came. Thorin pressed a hand to Fili's wounds, trying to stop the bleeding. Fili groaned against the pressure but seemed to slip unconscious. Thorin closed his eyes and begged the Halls of Aule not to take the boy. He was too young. He was too young and…and Thorin could not handle loosing another of his family. Dis could not handle it.

He held his hand pressed firmly to the wound, whispering harshly at Fili to not give up and to stay alive until he felt Balin squeeze a hand on his shoulder, telling him to let the boy go. Thorin sat back and watched a blur of dwarves lift his nephew and rush him towards the wall.

And he wept, because the entire time he prayed for Fili, he swore he had been looking at the lifeless body of the boy's father instead.

* * *

Dis openly wept beside her boy. Thorin sat in vigil beside the lad's bed, his eyes on the faint rise and fall of the sleeping dwarve's chest but not quite watching him.

Dis sniffled and raised her head, trying to smile through the tears as she laid a hand upon her son's cheek.

"I killed your son," Thorin finally admitted.

Dis shook her head, "He s not dead-"

"For how much longer?"

Dis drew a sharp breath, but Thorin did not stop.

"I drove him to run from me; I did not stop him! I wasn't-"

"-At fault," Dis finished for him. "Trouble follows my boys; that, you cannot be held responsible for. If Fili…" She swallowed, "if Fili passes, it will be the fault of the wolf which he slayed. Not yours, brother."

Dis squeezed her son's hand, the one which was not slung, and then rose to wash. Thorin did not move.

* * *

Hours seemed to pass before Thorin stirred at the sound of a weak voice from behind him.

"Is Fili going to live?"

Thorin turned in his stool to see Kili standing, his feet turned in and his eyes swollen from crying. Thorin exhaled deeply before waving for Kili to step closer.

"He lives now," Thorin answered, and while it wasn't a very hopeful answer, Kili seemed to brighten at it.

"Has he woken?"

Thorin's shoulders dropped, "No, no he hasn't. Not yet…"

Again, Kili's spirits fell. Quickly, Thorin added, "Perhaps he's waiting."

"Waiting? What could he possibly be waiting for?"

"For his brother, of course," Thorin mused. No sense having everyone worrying and down on their spirits within the house. Thorin frequently could trick Kili with his words, and until the boy grew out of such tricks, Thorin would continue to do so, so long as it kept Kili smiling.

The boy seemed to have a stroke of a thought, for he quickly clambered past Thorin, swinging his knees and chest up and onto the bed beside Fili. Thorin stood to stop him, but paused as he watched Kili carefully slip himself beside his brother, wary of Fili's wounds.

"There, Fili-I am here! Brother, you can wake up now!"

Fili did not stir, and Kili's heart seemed to sink. Thorin regretted his trick, quickly adding,

"W-well, you cannot expect him to wake now, surely!"

Kili looked to Thorin.

"What do you mean?" He sounded distraught.

"It is late-far past your bedtime! You should not be awake, lad! Fili knows this; he continues to sleep, because you should be asleep as well! And in the morning, after you've had your rest, then Fili shall awaken because then he shall know you are up!"

Kili seemed to concentrate on this thought, dissecting his uncle's words and making sense of it all. Finally, he seemed to have another idea, before smiling in approval.

"Then I'll go to sleep! And Fili will wake me in the morning?!"

Thorin hesitated.

"A-aye."

Kili seemed to will himself to sleep in that instant, snuggling himself as close to his brother while remaining conscious of his brother's wounds. He closed his eyes and almost instantaneously began snoring a wispy sounding breath.

Thorin relaxed back into his chair, feeling rather remorseful. Come morning, he would have to explain to Kili why it did not work. Why Fili still did not stir, or, should the worse befall them, why Fili would never stir again. But, that was a task left to deal with come morning.

So, Thorin, exhausted, let his eyes close and leaned back, finding himself fall to sleep much like his nephew.

* * *

Thorin woke to the sound of Kili screaming.

At first, Thorin instinctively reached for a sword that wasn't at his side, his eyes wide and terror filling him.

Then, he recognized what exactly his nephew was screaming about.

"Fili! You're awake! Uncle was right, see? Uncle! Uncle, you were right! Morning has come, and here Fili woken!"

Thorin blinked, looking between Kili, who clung to his brother's good arm, and the boy in question, who in turn was looking between Kili and Thorin.

The smile he held for his brother fell when he saw Thorin, and his greeting was a rather lack luster mutter of "uncle."

Thorin said nothing.

"Fili?"

All eyes turned to Dis, who had passed at the sound of Kili's caterwauling. Upon sight of her eldest, she nearly fell to her knees.

"My son-!"

"Mother," Fili's greeting to his mother was much warmer than that to his uncle, and Thorin found this a moment to be shared amongst a family; one he did not particularly, in this moment, feel a part of. Excusing himself without a word, Thorin stood and left the room.

* * *

Fili watched his uncle flee. Beside him, his mother and brother spoke so quickly he could not follow their conversation, so he didn't bother. His arm was numb (Oin's herbs, his mother confided to him) and his head hurt (A full recovery, Kili assured him). Fili cut off his brother, asking if perhaps he may sleep a little while longer. His mother inquired if he felt well enough to eat-he needed to recover his strength. Oddly enough, Fili declined the offer. Sleep, sleep was all he needed.

Kili would have stayed beside him, tried to, but Dis demanded he help her with chores. Fili gave a nod to Kili, insisting that he'd be fine and their mother needed him ("You're the man of the house now, Kili." "Don't be silly! Uncle Thorin is still here!"). When they were gone, Fili found he couldn't keep his head lifted, his headache so severe as he fell back asleep almost instantly.

When he awoke, Thorin alone was at his bedside .

Fili tensed, but said nothing. His head still hurt, so he was in no mood to argue or quarrel with his uncle. He hoped Thorin felt the same.

"I only came to return these," Thorin offered, lifting something in his hand.

Fili had to squint to make out the blunt shape, his eyes still blurry from sleep.

"Father's swords?"

Thorin nodded.

Fili watched his uncle for a long time before he spoke, "They do not belong to me. You said so yourself, those-"

"-These swords do no good, collecting dust as you said. By right, they are yours. You may, however, be too young to use them," Thorin smirked, "but nonetheless these are yours. Care for them, least til you are ready to use them."

Fili shook his head slowly, "Mother will never-"

"-Your mother has agreed. She was against the thought, at first, but I spoke on your behalf. Besides, you deserve some reward."

"Reward?"

"Yes. That was your first kill, was it not?"

Fili gawked, looking between the sheath and his uncle, before finally looking down at his one good hand and replying meekly, "thank you."

Thorin grunted in response.

A thick silence grew between them. Thorin thought perhaps now was the time to address the harsh words passed between them, but just as he moved to speak, Fili cut in-

"I'm afraid I'm still v-very tired. You'll excuse me, will you not?" Thorin almost spoke up, until Fili pleaded, "Uncle?"

Sighing, Thorin gave a curt smile and nod before standing, leaving the sheath beside Fili on an end table. With that, he took his leave. Fili watched him leave, unsure what to make of their exchange, but though little on it before he slipped, again, to sleep. He dreamed of wolves with Kili's laugh and Thorin warning him the responsibility of being a cave troll and how he must protect his tunnel.

Fili woke briefly in a sweat, with Kili curling beside him. Kili informed him he slept through dinner, but assured Fili he brought some for Fili, for when he felt up to eating. Fili agreed to try some stew, when he felt up to it. Kili fell asleep instantly at Fili's side, to which the older brother smiled and sighed at, before adjusting for comfort to drift off to sleep once more.

* * *

_"Father wouldn't much like you doing that, you know._"

Kili whipped his head around, smiling goofily at the sound of his brother's voice. But, he can't see him.

"Father never minded!" Kili counters, his hands lowering the arrow he'd just notched, his guard dropping. Where was his brother?

_"That's because you never knew our father."_

Kili's smile dropped.

"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

_"Do you remember what he looks like?_"

"…Fili, where are you?"

_"-Or do visions of our grand Uncle clout your memories._"

"Is this a game, brother?" Kili didn't much like it. Where was Fili, anyway? He sounded to be coming from right beside him.

"_Will it be the same?"_

Kili slowly rose to his feet, apprehensive now. "Will what be?"

_"When I die. Will you forget my face and only ever know our Uncle's?_"

"Fili! That's absurd, I-"

_"Can you prove it_?"

Kili chuckled nervously. "Well, I suppose not, because you're not-"

Fili's voice had vanished.

"Fili? Fili, knock it off! This isn't a game-"

Fili didn't respond. He never did.

* * *

Kili bolted awake, sitting upright immediately and throwing an arm across the mattress beside him.

Fili grunted.

Kili breathed a relief, comforted that his brother was beside him. What an interesting nightmare, he mused. Surely Fili didn't hold those thoughts to himself, did he?

* * *

_But I gave you all_

* * *

When Kili woke again, come morning, he felt the mattress quaking beside him. He thought it odd, turning to see Fili, shivering underneath the layers of quilts.

"Fili..?"

Kili sat up, trying to prod his brother. But something was wrong. Fili did not wake; he merely shook and muttered through chattering teeth.

"Fili," Kili tried again, this time shaking his brother more urgently.

Fili did not stir. He winced, in his sleep, and Kili jumped from beneath his blankets, scurrying to the doorway and calling after his mother.

"Mother! Mother, its Fili-! Come quick, mother-!"

In an instant, Thorin stood in the doorway, far closer than Dis had been to the room at the time of Kili's calling.

"What? What is it boy? Fili, you say-?"

"Fili won't wake up!"

Thorin mistook this statement and braced himself for the worst. Surely, the boy had not passed in the night? He had been recovering! He had awoken several times just the dya before, Thorin thought.

Grieving, he stepped towards Fili, only to catch sight of the trembling boy, whose chest did rise and fall as only the living could.

Thorin sighed with relief, until he reached out to feel Fili's brow.

"He's burning…"

"Why won't he wake up?!"

"Hush! Your brother is sick. Fetch your mother! Then, go for Oin! Fili has a fever-"

Kili was scrambling for the room immediately, calling for his mother down the halls. Thorin tucked the quilts further around the boy, gently hushing his whimpers and speaking softly, "Fili, awaken. Please, boy, open your eyes."

As if willed to do so, Fili slowly squinted one eye open, the blue color glazed over with a milky cataract. His eye rolled back and he shut his eyes once more, still struggling to breathe through the pain in his chest.

Thorin bit his lip, wondering how much grief this boy had caused in such a few short days. Dis quickly joined him, asking questions he had no answers to, and they waited anxiously for Oin's arrival, dragged in tow behind a frantic Kili.

* * *

In sleep, Fili saw the wolf's snarling face over and over. It barked and snapped at him and sometimes it would rip through Fili, and other times it would morph into the face of his uncle and he would smile as he drove a sword through Fili.

Sometimes, he'd find himself in the mountain, sprinting through the caves with Kili chasing after him. But, then he'd lose Kili and frantically call after him, fearing the worst; that he'd lost Kili, that something had happened to his brother. That his father would scold him for not protecting Kili.

Fili heard Kili calling his name, but never could he will himself to wake. He was far too tired. Pain shot through him, from his chest and arm, and again the wolf would appear and Thorin would yell at him, reminding him his father is dead as though Fili had ever forgotten such.

And he was always cold. He burned with sweat, but he always felt cold. He strained to listen to the lullabies his mother sang softly to him, but all he could ever focus on was how cold he felt.

Oin would try to have him swallow something, and half-awake Fili would be but his stomach always rejected the remedy. He couldn't hold down water, and even when he had nothing to regurgitate, his body still would heave.

He felt Kili's tears hit his hand, but in dreams these tears were like acid that burned away his flesh and he could not hold the dagger which saved his life against the beast.

And all through his dreams and even when he awoke, Fili always saw his uncle's eyes upon him, caught between glaring and contemplating, as if he wasn't sure who or what to blame the boy's illness on.

At least, Fili thought, he'd see his father soon.

* * *

Thorin leaned in the doorway, watching Kili cling to his brother's side. Kili was whispering to his unconscious brother, trying to force himself to smile but finding it difficult to do in the presence of someone who couldn't smile back. Thorin leaned closer, trying to make out the words his nephew spoke.

"…envy you…'s cooking tonight was bland. She refuses to…and he, of course…"

Thorin sighed, letting his head roll back against the wall and closing his eyes. Kili went silent a moment, before speaking even in a more hushed tone that Thorin had to strain further to hear.

"…you can't die Fili. You…Is this because o-of father? B-because I can't r-remember him…th-that's what you said, i-in my dream. Y-you said b-because I couldn't…P-please don't die-"

"-Kili."

Kili jumped, startled as his uncle stepped from the wall, entering the room. He hastily tried to clear his cheeks of tears, but was aware it was futile. His wide, tear-brimmed eyes simply watched as his uncle made his way over to the bed, siting himself beside Fili, who at the moment was rather still.

"Kili," Thorin offered again, softer. The boy looked scared, though Thorin could offer no comfort for that.

"I-is Fili going to..?"

"Put those thoughts aside, boy. Would Fili want you to worry? You think weeping, as you do now, will help your brother any?"

Kili sniffled, shaking his head.

Fili was pale as death and still as it too. His hair was free of any braids, which made him look unruly and younger than he already was. The beads he'd been gifted (For he'd earned another one or so of his father's, and then a few of his own) sat unused beside the blades. His knife, Thorin knew, was being held onto by Kili, who refused to touch it. He kept it more as a keepsake, until Fili woke up and asked for its return.

"Now, stop this," Thorin again prodded. Kili sat up, whipping his eyes and he watched his uncle, waiting for the next command. Thorin inhaled, holding back his own grief and doubts, and spoke quickly.

"You cannot blame yourself."

"But, Fili-"

"-Would not blame you, so neither should you."

Kili nodded slowly.

"I…I don't remember what father looked like."

Startled, Thorin watched his youngest nephew, who sympathetically watched in turn his sleeping brother.

"To tell the truth…when I try to remember what he looks like, I just see Fili…"

Thorin almost smirked at the irony. That Fili should have accused he, Thorin, of replacing their father, in the eyes of his brother, when in actuality it was Fili himself who had done that.

"He acts like father. Always looking out for me, for mother. Sometimes, I don't think he even thinks about himself; he's always worrying about protecting us, putting us on his shoulders. He meant nothing, taking out father's swords and me beyond the wall. I think he was finally allowing himself to be selfish-he was just trying to preserve father's memory."

"And why's that?" Thorin asked, curious.

"He needs it. Mother, she…she's gotten over father's death. She's moved on, and she grieves for him, but she knows he's gone and she accepts it. I…I didn't know him well enough," Kili chuckles, because it's true. He can't remember his father at all, almost. It's like Fili accused of him, in the dream.

"But Fili…he clings to the memory of our father. He needs to believe in him still."

Thorin shook his head. It was natural to grieve, but why..?

"He's burdened himself with so much; with the expectations and with the legacy of our father, and even of you, uncle-"

Thorin looked shocked at this accusation.

"-sometimes, I think, he wishes father was still here, so those burdens would be less. Not that Fili cannot handle it; for he does, and he does so without complaint. But, sometimes, I think he wishes father was still here, so Fili could relax. He has it in his mind that he needs to protect everyone, always. I think…he just wishes Father was around, so someone would protect him."

Thorin's shoulders sunk. To be so young, and to understand so much…Both his nephews, Thorin thought with pride, looking between Fili to Kili, who still lovingly watched his brother sleep.

"Which is nonsense, 'course. I'll protect him, if the time comes," _again_, Kili almost added, because it still pained him that his brother had been alone and nearly died at the jaws of that beast, and Kili hadn't been there to protect him. No one had.

Thorin said nothing, finally standing and retreating without a word. He had much to think about. Behind him, he could hear Kili whispering to Fili's near-corpse,

"...Remember what Uncle said...you hear…you'll wake up, come morning…up…"

* * *

A week passed, and there is no change in Fili's health. Bleak, his situation looks, and while Kili refuses to cry, or to give up all hope, he feels betrayed. That Fili would cause him this much fret, and that he still wasn't waking in full consciousness. It was a wonder he wasn't dying of starvation, with how little he could stomach down. Kili took to throwing rocks over the wall from atop it, aiming for the trees which looked like white candles, with wax dripping down the sides; snow having frozen over the leaves and branches in clumps.

Kili jumped when two sentries passed him, warning him that he stirred the wolves by tossing stones at the trees.

"Wolves wouldn't dare come this close to the wall!" Kili reasoned, trying to appear brave but still too scorned from his brother's accident so fresh in memory.

"Aye, they would if they smell prey."

"They like to fest on the young; the weak. Dwarflings are their favorite, while the meat is still tender. They can smell the young-"

"-And the dying. The combination draws them closer; makes them restless."

The dwarves snickered to themselves, but Kili nearly burst into a rage then and there. They mocked Fili surely! Fili wasn't weak, and he wasn't going to die!

* * *

Kili sprinted from the wall, home, and brushed past both his mother and uncle, who sat tired in the drawing room by the fire. He ignored their questionings after him, instead throwing himself onto Fili's bed and shaking at his brother's good arm.

"Wake! Why won't you wake?! They'll not take you! I'll not let a wolf near you, nor anyone! Anything-!"

Kili reached for the swords, which lay so neatly neglected beside Fili. He attempted to unsheathe one, but found his fingers trembling and the blades too heavy. By then, Thorin had made his way after Kili, Dis quickly behind, and he pulled Kili from Fili.

"Madness, what is this?! Leave your brother in peace; at ease, Kili! Do not draw swords which-"

"They say he will die! They said the wolves can sense it, can smell it! That they'll come for Fili-"

"I'd like to see any wolf try to enter the gates, let alone reach this house while the line of Durin defends it! Who said this? Speak!"

Kili broke down, revealing what the sentries had spoken. Dis comforted her son, clutching him and rocking him and shushing his worries. No wolf would reach either of her boys, she promised, though it sounded so hollow when in reality a wolf had reached her son. They still were paying from that encounter.

"And if it does? If a wolf does make its way here..?"

"It shall regret that grave mistake, should a wolf be so lucky. It shan't stand should it come face to face with this mother!" Dis proclaimed proudly, brashly.

"I've told you. The Line of Durin will not let that wolf see within these gate's walls." Thorin reiterated, barking the threat.

Kili slowly smiled, and then all at once lost his bravery.

"Fili…"

"-will rise from his bed should a wolf ever outsmart and pass your mother and I," Thorin chuckled. "He's dealt with one before; he'll do it again."

"No," Kili shook his head. "This time, I'll protect Fili. I'll stop the wolves, should they come for him!"

Thorin ruffled Kili's hair, a mess without his brother to care for it. "Aye, that you will."

* * *

"The forest is restless. Birds have flown out of it; the wolves stalk too close for my tastes," Balin grumbles, staring beyond the tree tops at whatever greater evil lays dormant in the woods. Thorin is only half listening to the complaints. His mind and worries remain with Dis, by the bedside of the boy, much to his chagrin. He cannot dwell over the fate of one dwarve, no matter who that dwarve is, over the safety and fate of his people, scattered though they may be amongst the village and the Blue Mountain.

Balin, however, notices as much and sighs, asking, "How is the lad?"

"No change," Thorin admits.

"Is there likely to ever be a change?"

Thorin frowns, because the answer isn't one he'd like to admit.

"I see," Balin answers for him.

There's a pause as Balin hobbles down the wall, stopping only to half glance back at Thorin,

"He'll die a warrior, having slayed the beast that in turn slew him-"

"He will die too young, far before his time!" Thorin snaps. "It is not a warrior's death! He is not a warrior! He is a child-" Thorin gasps, because he has realized what Fili cannot. He is a child, if only for a little longer, and all the responsibility that he has been burdened with in the world cannot change the fact that he is but a boy.

"He sleeps in agony and sickness; it is a slow death, not the forgiving, quick death of battle," Thorin continues, lower; growling at Balin, who says nothing.

"He'll have died at the hand of sickness and infection; succumbing to his wounds, like poison," Thorin spat.

"Go to him," Balin finally offered. "If the boy is to pass soon, have his king send him off."

Thorin didn't know whether to be grateful for being relieved sentry duty in that moment or to feel remorseful for what reason Balin was allowing him leave. He took the offer with a nod, and stalked off, eager to return to Dis, should she need his comfort.

He did not think to consider the comfort he would need, should Fili have passed.

* * *

Thorin entered the house of his sister cautiously. He was desperate to rush in, to see how Fili faired, but he also wished to prolong the delay, should ill news be his only greeting. Last he had seen the boy, there had been no change in his health and still he had not woken. Thorin called out meekly (Then, remembering he was a proud king, he straightened and called with more resolve) for Dis, to no answer. Just as he reached the room which Fili slept, he called for Kili, hopefully, but again found no answer.

Fearful, he stepped inside, only to be greeted by familiar blue eyes.

"Uncle..?"

* * *

Fili had awoken that morning feeling conscious of having done so. He took a deep breath through his nose, which proved to be too much a task for his sore chest as he coughed almost instantly, but he was grateful that (in shorter, smaller breaths) he could at least breathe clearer.

His head still stung with pain, whenever it was lifted. Slowly, through some heavy straining, Fili managed, with his good arm, to prop his pillows to elevate his upper half so he almost was sitting.

He'd woken alone, to the fading light of a candle. Kili was not beside him, which was strange that he should have felt Kili beside him for so long in his sleep. Fili tried to call after his mother, or Kili, but his voice did not come, at first.

He coughed to clear it, working up the strength and effort to muster words. It took a while, but finally he croaked out a brief, "Ki'….Kil'…"

There was no response.

So, he was alone, he thought. He sat, in the stillness and silence of the house, and waited. He wiggled the fingers of his good arm, until the muscles felt stretched and worked. He almost feared attempting the same on his other arm-not that he feared the pain, but that he feared he'd lost feeling in it completely.

He was relieved when his arm stung as he circled his thumb, trying to grip but finding the muscles too relaxed for such effort. At least the pain alerted him that he still could use it, given time to recover.

So, he sat, trying to recall all he could of the days he'd felt half alive and half dead. Remembering dreams, or words spoken. Pondering where his mother or brother could be…

Uncle.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard footsteps (So close! Already within the house? He hadn't heard anyone enter-) And there, as if conjured up by Fili's thoughts, stood Thorin.

* * *

"You're awake," Thorin confirmed, a whisper more to himself than to Fili, though the surprise in his voice fell misheard on Fili's ears, to which he sadly responded, hurt,

"I am."

Thorin didn't move, watching the boy still. This must be a dream; he'd been left for dead, come this morning. Where was Kili, and Dis?

"Your mother? Your brother?"

Fili's heart fell. Did his uncle care so little for him? That he was shocked, insulted, that Fili should be well, and further upset at the absence of his favored nephew and sister? Was Fili's health not enough for him?

Of course it wasn't, Fili thought.

"They were not here when I woke-"

"When did you wake?" Thorin hastily cut him off, though he hadn't meant to.

Fili looked down.

"Moments…" ago, he'd meant to finish, but his voice failed him and he let the statement trail off. The air grew thin as neither knew what to say, until finally Fili broke it, just as Thorin gawked to speak as well,

"-I am…rather hungry," he admitted shyly. "Has mother, perhaps..?"

"A-aye, there should be some meal in the kitchen."

Another awkward pause, 'til Thorin jumped to attention.

"I-I'll fetch it."

* * *

Dis, in a desperate move to cheer her son and take his mind off his ill brother (There was little they could do for him now; he either would get better, or would not) had demanded Kili accompany her to market. The boy thrived on market visits, when he was allowed them, but this visit in particular brought little joy to Kili.

Dis had even drawn him to Bifur's stall, with the promise of any toy he hand-picked out. Kili had glowed at the prospect, and then looked downcast. When Dis asked why he refused to choose, he reminded her that Fili surely would be upset to miss the chance to pick his own toy.

"Well, you'll just have to pick one out for him," Dis offered.

Kili brightened slightly at this.

"But, what if I pick one he does not-"

"Nonsense! You know him best! Any toy you choose, I'm sure he will be thrilled! It shall be a gift, for when he gets better!"

If he got better.

Kili sprinted off with this newfound mission, finally deciding on some crude warrior with wings for a hood, as far as Dis could see, which Kili justified in that the wings on his back were much like father's swords.

Dis dealt with Bifur, paying for the toys before catching up to her bounding son and demanding he help her with the groceries as well.

When Dis returned home, she saw the tale tell signs of Thorin having returned (Odd; he should have been at the wall). Water was set to boil over the fire, and a coat lay discarded on the floor. Dis stepped through all the rooms, without a sign of Thorin, before she heard Kili yell from within Fili's room.

"Fili-!"

She feared the worse, sprinting to reach her youngest so that she may lessen the blow that was explaining (For Kili was older now, he must understand now more than he had at the time of his father's passing) death.

Instead, she was greeted by the curious eyes of her brother, who sat against the wall, across from the bed where Kili jumped and Fili-

Fili.

He was sitting up, staring, flabbergasted, at his mother. Dis dropped the basket in her hands and in three quick steps had embraced her son in a hug, conscious of his wounds but not caring in the least how he squirmed.

"M-mother…"

Dis said nothing, embracing both her sons before laughing, or crying, at their fortune. Thorin stood, announcing he would check on the tea, but Dis did not hear him. The tea was far from ready, but Thorin had sought for any excuse to escape that picturesque moment of a family.

A family that he wasn't sure he was a part of, in that moment.

* * *

Fili still was weak, something he learned after a mouthful too much. Mostly, he drank water, and sat listening to Kili, who made sure to fill Fili on every miniscule, harmless detail of the daily life that had passed, though he expanded everything to sound life-or-death. Between these mundane tales, Kili always managed to shove forth the toy he'd picked for Fili, forgetting each time that he'd already mentioned it.

It wasn't until Fili struggled to keep his eyes open, yawning with exhaust, that Dis ushered her youngest to leave Fili be. Though he'd slept the best portion of several days now, he still had little strength to spare listening to Kili's chatter.

Kili felt rather defeated, but Fili winked at him.

"Come morning, I'll be right here-you can tell me anything you missed tonight!"

Dis was now pushing Kili from the room, but not before the younger poked his head past her and, with great sincerity, asked Fili,

"Promise?"

Fili blinked, "'Course."

Satisfied, Kili allowed himself to be shifted from the room. Fili fell almost immediately to, for the first time in quite a while, a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Kili, who realized the moment his mother had tucked him to bed that he was in fact nowhere near tired, slipped from his bed, having the bright idea to see Fili once more. Their rooms were separated by the hall, and from it Kili could hear his mother speaking quietly to Thorin. Curious, Kili crept in the shadows towards the older dwarves, careful to keep himself hidden from sight as Fili had so often warned of him.

"I'd better return to the wall. Balin gave me leave, for Fili's sake, but…"

"I understand-you'd feel better if you had a report."

"By now at least," Thorin growled. Kili didn't understand what they were talking about, but at the mention of the wall, he felt a great anger rise in him. He still was upset at those two guards who spoke against Fili! Kili wondered if they would be at the wall…

There was a knock at the door, to which Kili heard footsteps approach and the slow creak of the door opening.

"Lady Dis," a stranger greeted, faintly from what Kili could hear.

"Gloin! What brings-?"

"It is ma' wife, ma'am…"

_Gloin_, Kili thought. He was a cheery dwarf, with a large red beard. His mother always spoke fondly of him, and his wife…Kili recalled her mentioning something of Gloin's wife bearing a child…or had it already been born..?

"Is it tonight?" Kili heard his mother demand in hushed haste. There was no response, but Kili imagined Gloin nodded. Whatever was happening, his mother had been expecting it.

Dis was now addressing Thorin, for her voice was raised, "Thorin! I must see after Gloin and-"

"Go," Thorin agreed. "The boys sleep. They will not stir."

Kili swelled with pride at his deceiving his uncle.

"I will be at the wall. Seek me if need be," though Thorin doubted he'd be of any help during childbirth. He'd missed his own sister's; both times.

There was the scurrying of footsteps, and then the door shut. Dis was gone.

After a while, the heavy steps of Thorin also reached the door, opened it, and then were gone.

Kili pondered returning to bed, but he was on such a streak tonight of stealth, and he did want to find those two sentries again. Kili did not slip on his moccasins, wasting no time in chasing down out the door after his uncle, hidden by the shadows of the caves at night.

Fili was left unsuspectingly alone and in sleep.

* * *

"Thorin! You are back-?"

"Aye," Thorin acknowledged, making his way up the steps of the wall to stand between Balin and Dwalin, the brothers having been gazing at the dark forest and sky.

"Tonight is silent. Whatever evil has been stalking us, surely will reveal itself on this night," Balin grimaced.

Thorin drew his eyes across the horizon, searching for something not there.

"Not a creature stirs…"

Several moments passed in anticipation. Dwalin leaned against the wall, his fingers admiring the blade of his axe. Balin seemed to meditate standing, almost asleep as he waited. Thorin stood like a mountain of his own, unyielding to the wind or the quiet.

There was a yelp, suddenly, from beneath the ladder, to which all three warriors instinctively reacted to, raising their weapons for battle.

"P-please-!" Came the whimper of surrender, to which Balin and Dwalin exchanged curious looks.

"Please..? What enemy spy..?"

Dwalin mouthed his own disbelief at his brother.

Thorin, however, dropped his blade instantly.

"I know that voice…" Thorin dropped his chin to scowl further forward, raising his voice and barking, "Kili! Show yourself, boy."

Sheepishly, a tiny dwarf appeared from beneath them, clambering up the ladder to stand before his uncle.

Balin chuckled. Thorin was less amused.

"The night is no place to find a dwarfling from home. It is not forgiving. Why did you come here?"

"I followed you-"

"I did not ask how, I asked why," Thorin insisted, impatiently. Kili again shrunk in shame, but before he could answer, he was interrupted by the panting arrival of a dwarve scout from within the wall.

"The caves! They come from the caves, they make their way to the village-"

"What is this now? Hark, who comes from the caves?" Dwalin yelled down.

"Goblins! Tunnels of goblins-!"

"Dis," Thorin breathed, quickly grabbing Kili by his shoulders.

"Your mother! She is at home-"

"N-no, Uncle. She went with G-Gloin, remember..?"

Gloin lived almost completely across from Dis and the boys within the caves. Thorin turned to the scout.

"Where? Which caves do they-?"

"The west! The west caves, the tunneled from under-!"

Dis lived furthermost west.

Thorin sighed with relief, finding a glimmer of hope that Kili should choose this night to follow Thorin far from home to the wall. That Gloin should call upon Dis, calling her away from-

Thorin's prayers were broken as Kili sniffled in his grip.

"F-Fili…what about Fili..?"

Thorin was sprinting past the scout before Kili could finish his question.

"Dwalin, protect Kili!" He shouted back at them. "Keep him from the caves! Get everyone out of the caves, and to the wall!"

But even as he spoke this, Dwalin had lost sight of the boy. For, in panic, Kili had run off after his uncle. Kili cared no thought towards his own safety. He simply knew he'd left Fili alone; again.

* * *

Fili woke in a sweat, but he didn't remember what caused him to stir. The house was quiet. Kili would be asleep; Mother and Uncle as well.

Still, something seemed off. The house was quiet, but there was a rumble from outside. The walls trembled; some distant roar echoed in the caves, and through the walls a thin, dull groan of the mountain reached Fili's ears.

Something stirred outside.

Fili was slipping his feet to the floor just as he heard the shouts. They were foreign; it was not the voice of dwarves.

Attack! They were under attack!

Fili jumped from his bed, stumbling to stand. His head buzzed and his vision blackened briefly before he shook it clear. Kili was asleep! And mother-!

Kili reached for his father's swords, hesitating just at the hilt. He couldn't afford to, though. He had to protect them.

_"Protect your brother and mother."_

If the swords were heavy before the incident, they felt like flames in Fili's palms now. His muscles twitched uncontrollably, but he merely tightened his grip. He only could hold one blade, the other he slung in its sheath on his back, conscious of his injured arm that still was slung in a makeshift cast. He breathed heavily, running on adrenaline to stand and relying on will power alone to uphold the sword in his good arm, though the weight pulled at the wound below his neck and he could feel the wound, like seams to fabric, splitting apart, fresh blood bubbling to the surface of it.

Fili ignored it and limped onwards towards Kili's room. His muscles were stiff, unused, but he stepped on and ignored the numbing pain.

Fili hissed out Kili's name, but no reply came. The bed was empty, made and tousled with since that morning.

Fili limped to his mother's; perhaps Kili had slipped in after her. She, too, had left a vacant room.

* * *

Fili used the wall to both guide and support him as he made his way through the house, wary of the shadows and the noise from outside. Thorin was gone, too. He was alone.

They've already gotten to them, Fili thought all at once, fearfully. Whatever enemies were outside, they had already gotten their hands on Fili's family and left him. He had failed his father and-

There was a shrill yelp from beyond the door, before it burst open. Standing before Fili was a nightmarish creature, with black skin that boiled and eyes that were pale like the moon.

Fili had never seen such a creature before, but he remembered the tales his uncle told him; tales of creatures that dwelled deeper in mountains than that of dwarves.

The creature snarled and Fili knew at once what it was; a goblin.

Fili thrust the blade in his hand forward, sloppily and on impulse. The goblin leapt forward, easily dodging Fili's blade and knocking it aside. Fili pulled the blade back to his chest, letting out a weak kick that caught the goblin's side. It gave him enough of an opening, the goblin stumbling, for Fili to hack the blade downward, catching the goblin in the shoulder. It hissed in pain, dropping to its knees, as Fili bolted past it and out the door.

Goblin blood trickled down the sword, and some had even landed on Fili himself, but he did not heed it. The streets were alit with flames as goblins sprinted by, while dwarves alike fought them, defending their homes. Fili stumbled from his home, gawking at the scene of siege before him.

His resolve, however, was to find his brother and mother. Fili thought to find his uncle. Thorin would know what to do! Surely if the goblins got Kili and his mother, they had not also bested Thorin..?

Fili's thoughts were interrupted by the blunt force hitting the back of his skull.

Fili collapsed, the sword falling from his hands, but he did not feint. His head had exploded in pain, his vision darkened and not recovering as quickly as Fili would hope. He twisted around to see the foreboding figure of the goblin, still bleeding from its shoulder, standing above him. It raised its own crude instrument above its head, posed to strike down the dwarve.

All at once, Fili saw the face of the wolf, snarling at him, intermingling with that of this goblin. And Fili saw his father, with his back to his son, walking away; walking out to his death.

Then the goblin seemed to cringe quizzically, just as some unforeseen shape protruded from its chest.

It fell, away from Fili, and in its place stood a fuming, exasperated dwarve, who all at once looked menacing and relieved.

"Thorin!"

* * *

Thorin collapsed to his knees, his sword carelessly dropped at his side. He looked to the goblin, thinking how lucky the creature should be that time was against Thorin and that it should suffer only a quick death.

Thorin hadn't even heard half of what Fili was rambling on about by the time he turned his attention again to the boy.

"…gone! We have to find them! You can track them, can't you?! You can find Kili, and mother! We have to go, we have to-!"

Thorin cut the boy short, embracing him in a hug that paid no caution to Fili's wounds. Fili winced, but more so he stood perfectly still, confused by his uncle's actions.

"U-uncle…we need to go! Kili-"

"-Is with Dwalin, at the wall," Thorin finished, still burying his own face and beard into the neck of Fili. Fili stuttered, "a-and mother..?"

"Safe. She's across the caves; Gloin is with her."

Gloin was a formidable warrior. Though Thorin hated to leave the safety of his sister in the hands of another, he knew Gloin would allow no enemy into his home; not when his wife and new born child lay inside it. Dis was perhaps the safest she could be.

Fili finally relaxed, his shoulders dropping just as Thorin released his embrace to stare into the face of his nephew.

"I-I woke up, and no one was here…"

"Aye; your brother had followed me to the wall-"

"A-and I heard the noises, from outside…We were being attacked!"

Thorin nodded.

"B-but you were gone. Everyone was g-gone!"

He had feared they'd all left him. Like his father.

"I-I came out here, I-I tried to find you! To find Kili, mother-"

"They are safe. Worry for yourself, boy-"

"I c-can't! I need to protect them, protect-"

Thorin's brows furrowed, "What's this? Says who?"

"…Father," Fili muttered finally, his voice as broken as his tears now, "F-father told me…to protect Kili…a-and mother…"

Thorin sighed, "That is a burden one as young as you yourself need not-"

"No!" Fili interrupted, "I must protect them! It's what Father told me! I have to protect them!"

"And you've done a fine job at that," Thorin finally admitted. "But, who will protect you?"

Fili blinked, unable to answer. Without one to give to his uncle, Fili looked away, abashed.

Thorin, however, directed his chin to face him yet again, proclaiming, "I'll protect you."

Fili's eyes grew, but he said nothing.

"I cannot replace your father, nor would I and have I ever wanted to. But I can protect you, and your brother, and your mother…because we are a family, and that is what a family does."

Fili abruptly hiccupped, tears returning to his face.

All around them, the goblin raid seemed to die as a flood of angry dwarves befell them. Fires were squandered with water, carried by dwarves as the last of the miserable creatures sunk back to their tunnels in retreat or met an end at the hand of a dwarven blade.

Fili finally broke down, mumbling out a miserable question, "Y-you'll protect us?"

Thorin chuckled at the child, nodding.

"Aye. Your mother and brother, and you."

And Thorin felt a weight lifted, for in that moment, Fili smiled at him.

"Me too! Me too! I'll protect you all, Fili!"

Fili and Thorin both turned to see the bounding forward figure of Kili, mere steps ahead of Dwalin who looked positively distraught.

"Kili?! I thought you said he was at the wall, safe-?" Fili turned on his uncle, horrified.

Thorin, too, looked baffled, afraid he'd lost all the trust he'd only just gained in his nephew.

"I-h-he was..! Dwalin!" He barked. The warrior, if possible, looked sheepish, having been outrun and out smarted by a mere child.

Kili worked his way between Thorin, hugging Fili at the waist tightly.

"I'm going to protect you, from now on, Fili!"

Fili finally laughed, genuinely, and shook his brother's hair.

"Very well, then."

Thorin swelled with pride at his nephew's bravery and loyalty.

That is, until he saw the blood splayed on Fili, and his sword and it dawned on him that when Dis returned, she would want an explanation as to why Kili had been at the wall, or Fili almost died (again).

He was going to need his nephew's protection from Dis.

* * *

**A/N: **Random Facts: I avoided giving Fili and Kili's father a name-if it detracted from the story at all, I'm sorry-I just never feel comfortable naming characters; I even avoided naming Gimli's mother (She probably canonically has a name, I'm just too lazy to go find it). On the topic of Gimli, it's heavily hinted that it's his birth that Dis goes to midwife-help with. Again, I really avoided the mentioning of age or dealing with years and what not, because while I understand Fili and Kili's age of 70~80 during the time of 'The Hobbit' was considered young for dwarves, that doesn't mean I have any better idea of how those 70 or so years are divided up in regards to what's still considered a child, what's the proper age to begin training with weapons, etc...So a lot of it is open ended, you can imagine them as young or old as whatever works for you, or maybe if you don't think too much about it it won't even matter! Sorry!

I know there's probably tense problems scrambled throughout-I don't think I settled with a past or present tense, because when I started writing this I think I began with present, then it became more generic and past. So sorry bout those mistakes!

I really wanted this fic to explore Fili's relationship with his father and his uncle. I tried to have Kili make enough appearances in the story, because no Fili fic can be without Kili, but like I said-Fili is my favorite, so this mostly was focused on him...He also is very OOC in this, but again, like I said, this was my angsty spin on the development of Fili admiring his father, loosing him, and being afraid of forgetting his father or living up to his father's dying words whenever his uncle steps in. So, again, I'm sorry at Fili's OOC-ness...

Kili has OOC too of course (Like his incredibly wise moment which contradicts really how old I couldn't decide on portraying him) and maybe Thorin appeared too soft in a lot of it too...

The ending is a bit mushy for me as well, but I thought they'd had enough conflict and to have them resolve it there. Originally this was two different story ideas; one followed up until Fili kills the wolf, and then the other was this idea of the dwarven city they dwelled in being under attack, and Fili being wounded or sick but still standing and defending himself. Half way through writing this, I ended up combining the two, so sorry if that doesn't integrate as seamlessly as I'd've liked! I also was going to split this story into two chapters, but then I wanted to incorporate the three lyrics breaks and just decided to keep it as a really long one-shot. Sorry...

There's probably a lot more I meant to say but am forgetting! I hope someone enjoyed reading this~! Thank you!


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